


Fingertips

by Pokypup49



Series: 503 week 2019 [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 503 week 2019, 503week, Ed is sweet, F/M, Scars, edwin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:22:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokypup49/pseuds/Pokypup49
Summary: Winry works hard every day to provide high-quality automail. Sometimes this work can be hard on the fingers. Ed realizes this for the first time."They were her small sacrifices to good work, to help those who needed it, to those who's scars were more apparent on the outside and in."





	Fingertips

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or the characters.

The lights in her workshop were dimmed, besides a focused lamp which hovered over her work with precision. Her back was hunched over as she drowned out everything around her to focus so intently on her work. The grinding of tools against metal, the clicking as she slid pieces together, and the smell of grease and oil were heavy, but to her, it was music and aromatherapy. This room was where she buried herself when the stress of the world was too much. Prototypes and repairs, it didn't matter, she was a creator of metal artificial limbs. It up to her to repair the lives others lost or were losing. This so happened to be her passion. So, that morning, after little sleep, she put the grease-covered overalls on, pulled her hair back from her face, and donned her old working gloves.

 

After the years of being one, she took the nickname ‘Gear-Head’ to heart. She was one, a fine mechanic, who was passionate enough to work hard and climb a ladder of tough reputations. Though, no one called her that but Edward. He had come back to her and Granny's home last night. He just needs some “tweaking” done, but everyone, including his armor bonded brother, knew that actually meant heavy maintenance. The reason for her light sleep was obvious. The shining achievement and masterpiece was abused and being slowly destroyed by the one person she loved the most. The reason why she was quick to throw the wrench was also now obvious.

 

With her mini hand drill going away, shaving off a mere half centimeter from a joint to avoid improper and destructive wear and tear, she failed to hear the steps of her closest friend enter. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed in her sanctuary, but more like she allowed him to exist under pretenses of “don't touch anything.” His feet gently crept to her. He wasn't one to normally wear socks, but on this cold November morning, he did, making his automail foot nearly silent. His blonde head peered over her shoulder. She knew he was there. Years of practice, years of dutiful concentration, enabled her to ignore his lingering stares and focus entirely on her project. That didn't mean that he'd take the hint and leave, however.

 

Winry slid the pieces together, hearing a grinding sound. She detached them, and began grinding again. Still, his presence lingered. After smoothing an edge, she slipped it together again, reaching for a nut and bolt.

 

“Here,” he whispered as he offered it to her.

 

Winry looked over to see Ed holding it out to her.

 

“Thanks,” she smiled nervously. “What are you doing in here? I thought this place bore you.”

 

He shrugged, leaning against her desk. “I'm bored now. What's the difference?”

 

She snorted a laugh and took a bit of grease to slide in a bearing. She tried her pliers, her long-nosed pliers, but couldn't get them in properly. She sighed, putting the leg down and looking inward at the joint. “I'm trying something new, but maybe this is too deep. You can grease it here,” she muttered pointing to a hole on the side of the metal kneecap. “But getting it in a secure…” she looked up at Ed. He tilted his head at her. “You listening?” It was more of a statement of amazement, not accusing him of his childish ignorance.

 

“Yeah,” he nodded softly. He pointed to the joint. “Grease goes there.”

 

She blinked her light blue eyes. He never listened to her rambles.

 

“That's not like my leg though.”

 

She shook her head. “I'm working on the knee to absorb more pressure or strain. However, the work here is tight and small spaces for what I'm used to.”

 

“If they ever need repairs, you're going to have to take the leg apart.”

 

“If they take care of it, they will only have to see me once every ten years, unless they drink their milk and grow.”

 

“Hey!”

 

Winry took off her gloves, feeling the cool metal under her fingers. Without the gloves, she could feel where it needed grease, the slip, and grind of specific pieces, and the ever so wiggle where there shouldn't be. This is how she liked to work. Her accuracy increased in her final product when she felt the metal and the life of her creations. She dipped her finger in a can of black grease and tried to wedge her finger into the small space. And after some struggle, there was a quiet snap of it fitting the way she wanted it. She wiped her hand on a rag and turned the leg over. On the other side, we went on to inspect the maneuverability on another section.

 

“Ow,” she hissed, pulling her finger back. On her ring finger, a droplet of blood quickly oozed down to her palm. “Uhg,” she then grumbled and looked for a clean rag.

 

“What happened?” Ed jumped up seeing her finger.

 

“Just a knick. That's what happens when I don't smooth the edges properly.” She stopped shooting a glare at him.

 

Ed raised his hands defensively in front of him. “I'm not saying anything.”

 

She glared as she imagined him bring it up later about if she was the best, the edge would have been smooth. Self-inflicted blah blah blah.

 

“Here,” he breathed as he reached for her hand, holding a clean rag. “You better get that cleaned…” his voice drifted. “How come I've never seen these.” He examined her fingers as if it was the first time. “You cut your fingers that often?”

 

“Not all the time,” she quickly objected. “I don't mess up that often.”

 

“Winry,” replied a gentle argument. “Your fingers are all scared up.”

 

Indeed they were. To a normal eye, they might just look a bit rough. But up close, the thin scarred lines was the clear evidence of her hard and dedicated work ethic. They were her small sacrifices to good work, to help those who needed it, to those who's scars were more apparent on the outside and in. She watched as his golden eyes carefully examined each finger, frowning as he saw deeper ones. She could feel as he ran his thumb over them, feeling the scar. “It's easier for me to get into spaces without my gloves. And I can feel the pieces better.” She didn’t pull her hand back as he went to apply the rag to her one finger.

 

“You’re supposed to wear gloves,” he lectured. “This can get infected, you know.”

 

She rolled her eyes. There was the lecture she was waiting for. What made him think he was so qualified? The automail limbs were the only part of his body that hadn’t been bruised or broken at this point! And even then, he was rather aggressive in his use of her masterpieces. “When did you get so concerned over my fingers?” She raised her eyebrow, starting to sense a little softness in Ed’s stare.

 

Ed's head popped up and blushed. He dropped her hand and stood up, gulping at his embarrassment. “I don’t!” He turned and started to march out. “You should take care of your hands like a girl! Not let them get so torn up like some stupid Gear-Head!”

 

Winry swiveled in her chair and yelled at him as he turned down the hall. “Still better than you, Alchemy Freak!” She huffed as she carefully pulled the rag back from her finger. It had stopped bleeding. It wasn’t that bad at all. It’s probably wouldn’t even show up in a week, the evidence of her complacency would be erased. She reached back around the leg, tenderly feeling for the rough spot so that she knew where to smooth it out.

 

“Here,” she heard him yell, marching behind her and throwing a band-aide on the table. Without another word, he marched back out, hiding the blush that he wore. Winry couldn’t help but smile. He was a big softy.

 

Two weeks later, when the mail arrived, Grandma Pinako called down to her saying she had a box. That was weird since she wasn’t expecting anything. She looked at it carefully, shaking it. It was light, and small, but didn’t have a sender. She and Pinako looked at each other before she found a knife and cut into it. Once opened there was a scrap of torn paper and a pair of yellow gloves. “Better keep your hands safe. I need maintenance soon. -Ed” She looked up at Pinako again as she pulled a pair of thin leather gloves from the box. They were thinner than normal, and light. She put them on, noticing how flexible they felt. Winry couldn’t help smile. She didn’t say anything as she jumped up and ran to her room. “I’ll be busy! Let me know when lunch is ready!”

**Author's Note:**

> How did you like it? Yes, two big dorks... one sweet dork. Haha. 
> 
> Thank you for being a reader. Happy 503 week.


End file.
